


Foundations

by TheRussianKat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Panic Attacks, suggested violence against a minor, there will be moths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:25:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRussianKat/pseuds/TheRussianKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras's life hasn't always been as perfect as his friends think and maybe its about time they knew that</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey peeps! Thank you for reading, I am thinking of a second chapter so let me know if you think I should! Thanks :)

“And what the fuck do you know about it?”

The room fell silent as Grantaire’s question hung in the air. Each pair of eyes swiveled to Enjolras expecting to see rage burning behind the blondes’ eyes. But there wasn’t. His eyes were wider and his stature had shrunken slightly but he didn’t appear angry. He was impassive and it was slightly terrifying.

“You know shit Enjolras,” Grantaire muttered before draining his glass grimacing as he swallowed the cheap wine “Why don’t you stick to rain forests and student fee’s.”

“Why don’t you shut the hell up?” a voice rang from the end table. But it wasn’t Enjolras. He was still sat between Courfeyrac and Combeferre his face still blank. Instead it was Courfeyrac who was glaring daggers at the artist.

“Oh please, R’s right!” Eponine exclaimed as she dropped into the seat beside the cynic passing him another drink “Enj was brought up with a silver spoon. We’ve all met his parents; they look like something out of one of those ‘Good Living’ magazines. He has no idea what it’s like to sleep in the cold ‘cos his dad couldn’t afford the bills, or to have social services banging down your door. Like R said, you know shit.”

“Well you clearly know fu…” Courfeyrac began shouting but was cut off by Combeferre who gently took his arm and whispered something in his ear gesturing to Enjolras as he did. The blonde had paled considerably. Then without warning he flew out his seat and out of the room, not even turning back when he knocked into Marius who had been returning with drinks.

“Meeting’s over,” Combeferre announced as he pulled his messenger bag onto his shoulder along with Enjolras’s. Courfeyrac was still staring at the door dumbfounded at his friend’s actions. “Come on Courf,” Combeferre muttered grabbing his shoulder as he too retreated from the room. 

As he stepped into the courtyard outside the Musain he could see Enjolras disappearing through the archway towards the town square and no doubt their apartment. “Shit,” Combeferre muttered before taking after his friend, conscious of Courfeyrac hot on his heels. 

 

Back in the Musain the rest of the Amis sat in silence still quite unsure of what they had just witnessed. “What the hell was that about?” Joly asked. The others turned to each other speculating possibilities; all except Feuilly who settled into Bahorels embrace and sent a quick text to check on his friend.

 

It was only a ten minute walk between the Musain and their apartment so they soon found themselves in the lounge watching as Enjolras paced muttering to himself. “Enj?” Combeferre said softly as he approached his friend. It seemed the medical students’ voice was enough to bring the blonde out of his reverie. But instead of turn to his friends and discuss the problem he made for the kitchen only to find Courfeyrac stood in the doorway.

Turning on his heel Enjolras went back to the lounge and saw Combeferre stood at the archway leading to the bedrooms and apartment door. “Guys, please? What do you think I’m going to do?” he looked up at Combeferre knowing he was the one he would need to convince and offered him a small smile. This soon faded though as the spectacled man merely raised his eye brows and crossed his arms. 

Admitting early defeat Enjolras moved to the sofa and perched himself on the edged not truly relaxing until he felt his two friends take their seats on each side of him. “Now what’s going on?” Courfeyrac asked slinging an arm around the blondes shoulders.

“It’s just Grantaire argues every single week that the cause we are fighting is pointless and then this week when it’s something he can’t argue against he decides to berate me for something he knows absolutely fuck all about! And then of course Eponine immediately backs him up saying all these things and I can’t say anything because all I can do is remember, and I don’t know…” he trailed off his mouth still opening but failing to speak. 

Neither Combeferre nor Courfeyrac spoke, they just sat beside their friend and waited. The man in the middle stay silent though eventually leaning back into the overstuffed cushions. “I’m going to tell them.”

 

The trio entered the Musain two days later happy to see everyone had already arrived, including Grantaire who was sipping what looked like orange juice. 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac automatically took their seats at the end table sending small nods and smiles to Enjolras who stood between them looking ready to bolt at any moment. But after a minute or so and a few deep breaths, the leader looked up at his friends scanning over their faces all of which were kind yet confused as they looked towards the blonde.

“I owe you all an explanation,” he started his tone firm as he spoke “My exit on Thursday was completely out of order and un-professional for which I apologize. This cause means more to me than those we have previously undertaken and I let my personal feelings interfere,” he paused for a beat catching Combeferre’s eye who sent him a kind smile encouraging him to continue. “Your accusations were incorrect yesterday.”

This caused both Eponine and Grantaire to look up from where they had been muttering at the back. Eponine scoffed at his words and slouched further in her chair but Grantaire sat straighter his eyes now focused on the blonde, a smirk playing on his lips and mirth sparkling in his eyes.

“You claimed I did not understand the hardships of those who go through the care system or those whose families are less than ideal. You assume my past based upon the small parts you have seen without any further clarification to whether it is in fact correct.”

“Aw, poor baby. Did your parents not buy you the right car when you passed your driving test?” Eponine gasped before falling into giggles taking a swig from her beer.

“No.” Enjolras glared at her “I’m adopted.”

Eponine choked on her beer. Jehan looked up from where he had been braiding Cosettes hair his jaw slack and eyes wide. “You’re fucking kidding,” exclaimed Bahorel laughing slightly uneasily as he watched their fearless leader.

“I am not kidding,” Enjolras said through gritted teeth, eyes focused on the table before him “On my tenth birthday I was adopted by Robert and Marie Enjolras, having been fostered by them since I was about seven. It was the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he finished looking up at his friends who were all staring at him with something akin to bafflement.

Jehan was the first to break the silence, gently asking “So what…what happened?”

 

_________________________________14 years earlier____________________________________

 

Amanda Combeferre hated late call outs. Late call outs were always one of two things; a) absolutely nothing to be concerned about or b) the worst imaginable thing possible. This evening she had an increasingly bad feeling it was b.

The rain was hammering down on her as she slammed the door of her car and walked towards the grubby house she had been called to. There were police scurrying around like beetles with sniffer dogs leading them to every nook and crevice. She grabbed one of them as they scampered down the stairs “Excuse me officer, I’m from social services I was told it was an emergency?”

“Yes, Combeferre right?” she gave a nod “Perfect, he’s just upstairs won’t let anyone near him, and trust me we’ve tried everything.”

She followed him up the stairs and through a door at the end of the corridor. The stench of smoke, sweat and mold permeating every wall and surface. The room was small, or perhaps it just felt that way because of the three police men stood in there watching another kneel next to a bed frame holding a stained torn mattress. 

“Come on kiddo,” the kneeling man said softly extending an arm through the gap beneath the bed “Why not come with us and you can some nice hot cho-OW!” he suddenly pulled his arm back, holding his hand to his chest “The kid bit me!” he cried clearly not quite believing it himself.

“Why don’t you fellows go downstairs and I’ll see if I can get our friend to make an appearance?” Amanda said calmly, the command obvious beneath the sweetness.

Once the officers had left the room she took her place beside the bed, bent down so she could see the small figure shivering in the corner. From what she could see the child was wearing underwear but was otherwise naked with long hair spilling over his shoulders. His knees were drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them as though they may escape if released.

“Hey,” she began, offering a small wave. It was not returned. “I’m Amanda, what’s your name?”

At this the boy raised his head, two eyes peeking out above his knees. But he didn’t reply.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me, that’s okay,” she smiled as she noticed the little boy’s body relaxing minutely as she spoke “I have a little boy of my own. He’s probably your age or maybe a little older. He’s very smart. And I swear he knows more about moths than anyone I’ve ever met! I’ll come home and he will have another jar filled with them, each named, categorized and logged in his little notebook.” Her smile grew as she thought of him running up to her when she came home from work eager to show her the new additions to his collection. “Maybe you could be friends with him?”

The little boy under the bed now had his chin resting on his knees and his arms were hanging loosely around his legs. “Would you like to be friends with him?” she asked trying to ignore the ache developing in her legs. The little boy gave a small jerk with his head which she assumed was a nod. “Well, you’re going to have to come out here then.”

The little boy seemed to consider this, his lips pulling into a pout and eyebrows falling in to a scowl. But after a moment both arms fell from his knees and he began to crawl out from under the bed. Once he was halfway out Amanda pulled herself up into a more comfortable position but remained on the floor now leaning against the wall.

Now she could see him properly her heart began to ache and her throat tightened. He was scrawny and pale, his ribs obvious beneath the filthy skin. His hair was knotted and almost dread-locked from lack of care. There were a variety of bruises and cuts covering the tiny body with varying degrees of age and severity. One arm was held close to his chest the wrist with a clear break near the elbow. “Oh honey,” she whispered as the boy knelt before her “What happened to you?”

The boy just stared at her, big blue eyes unwavering in their gaze. “Do you want to go meet my little boy?” she asked, forcing another smile on her face. The boy nodded. “Okay, well we’re going to have to stop off somewhere first and then you can meet him. So do you want to come with me?” she held out her hand as she rose to her feet, wincing as her blood began circulating once more.

He placed his small hand in hers, his little fingers quickly hidden as she closed her hand over his. She led him out the room and down stairs lifting him into her arms when he tripped on one of the final steps. He stiffened at the new position and tried to push away with his good arm, his eyes wide and shiny in the dim light. “No,” he shouted as she tried to adjust her hold on the now squirming child “No! NO! NO!” he began scream now using his injured arm to try and pull himself out of the hold.

Panicking she placed the boy on the floor before he could fall from her arms and do even more damage. Once his feet touched the floor he ran. Amanda chased but the boy was a lot faster than he appeared “Can someone please help catch him!” she demanded as she followed the child into the living room.

Lucky for her two officers were already in there and the larger of the two immediately scooped the boy into his arms. He struggled in the officers hold tears streaming down his face as he screamed words no longer distinguishable between the sobs and shrieks. 

“Oh thank you so much!” she said as she approached the wailing child.

“No problem, he’s got a set of lungs on him hasn’t he?” the officer chuckled as he gently rubbed circles on the small boys back. The boys shrieks were slowly ebbing into hiccups as settled against the officers shoulder his body going limp as the man continued to rub his back. 

“Well you seem to have the magic touch,” Amanda said watching the small boy closely as he relaxed in the large man’s arms “Fancy helping me get him in my car?”

“Lead the way!” he laughed jostling the child into an easier grip as he followed her out the building. 

When they reached the car the small boy had fallen into a fit-full sleep his small hands clutching the officers uniform in an iron grasp. Amanda buzzed round the car, setting up the car seat for her sleeping passenger and calling ahead to the clinic to warn them of her arrival. Once this was done she turned to the man holding the child “Okay, now we just have to get him in without waking him up,” she groaned internally at the thought. One of the joys of having a well behaved eight year old was the lack of tantrums, but she still knew well that a sleeping child was something you disturbed at your own risk.

“Easy,” the officer chuckled “Watch and learn.” With that said he gently maneuvered the small boy in his arms. With a well-practiced ease he detached the child’s fingers from his shirt and lifted him into the car seat. 

“There we go,” he muttered as he brushed a few hairs from the small boys face who remained sleeping a frown playing at his lips.

“I cannot thank you enough,” she smiled at the large man “Sorry I never asked your name?”

“Bahorel, Duncan Bahorel,” he replied holding out a hand.

“Amanda Combeferre,” she shook his hand with a smile “I’m guessing you have your own kids.”

“Yeah two, baby girl and my son turned thirteen last week. So lots of practice,” he gave another hearty laugh “Anyway pleasure to meet you, but I better get back inside, lord knows what Mabeuf will get up to without me.”

Once Bahorel had left Amanda closed the door on the sleeping child and took her seat at the wheel. She could see the grubby hair, dirty face and downturned mouth in her rearview mirror. It was going to be a long night.


	2. His Name is Julien

The blonde boy looked even smaller in the starched white sheets of the hospital bed. His freshly scrubbed skin was shining pink between the bruises and his arm was wrapped in plaster lying stiffly by his side as sat in the bed. 

He was scared.

The last thing he remembered was a lady trying to get him to come out from under the bed and now he was somewhere else. Somewhere which smelt funny and had lots of people running around looking serious. 

Every now and then one would come and ask him if he needed anything and he would just burrow under the warm blankets, wishing he had something to hold onto like the little girl opposite him who was clutching a teddy bear whilst a woman read to her.

He wondered whether the woman was her mum. His mum never read to him. His mum had never bought him something to hold onto. His mum never did anything really except cry and get angry. She got angry a lot. 

He curled deeper into the blankets. His arm was throbbing and his stomach felt like there were worms wriggling their way out all the way up his throat. He couldn’t breathe. His heart was hammering against his chest. He could feel tears streaming down his face as his throat burnt with every rasping breath. He was too hot yet chills made his body shake terribly as people began to crowd him. His mind was racing. What if they got his mum? What if she came to get him? 

His breaths became choked sobs. He could feel a warm hand rubbing soothingly down his back and another gently wiping away the tears soaking his cheeks. A soft voice was whispering in his ear and he found his heart was calming down. His head was no longer screaming and red.

He turned to see the lady who had tried to get him out from under the bed smiling at him. He leant into her embrace, pleased when his mind quietened with the contact. He didn’t look at her again. But he let his fingers play with her sweater as she wrapped her arms loosely around him. He didn’t know quite what he was feeling. But he liked it.

 

Amanda smiled as the little boy’s eyes finally closed, his fingers gripping her sweater as he dreamt. It had been almost two days since the drug raid on the house and the little boy had been found. In those two days they had made little to no progress. The boy still didn’t have a name. No parents or family members had been located. No foster families in the local area had space for an extra child, especially one with such circumstances. It was bleak.

The little boy moved against her, snuggling into her warmth in his sleep. His face was peaceful and his hair was light and bouncy framing his face, making him look practically cherubic if it were for the bruises which spattered his lithe frame.

There was one other option if none of her foster families could take him she thought as she ran a hand through his curls. It wasn’t technically breaking any rules and was definitely a temporary solution if they really had no other option. The only problem was she could already feel herself getting attached, and that was never a good idea.

 

In the end she didn’t have a choice in the matter. There were no spaces in any of the foster families within a twenty five mile radius of where the child had been located and the hospital admin were pushing to get the bed empty again. So she found herself pulling into her driveway with a wide eyed passenger in the back seat. 

He was silent as she helped him out of the car and obediently took her hand as she closed the door and got the few shopping bags out of the back. He still wouldn’t speak. The most she had heard from him were the shouts and screams the day she had met him, she wasn’t sure which was more disconcerting.

It was an old house and had cost them almost twice what they had hoped to pay but it was as close to perfect as they could get. Its plum red wooden boards were crawling with a variety of roses and ivy. The front door was a cool shamrock green, the brass door knocker and letter box glinting in the diminishing sunlight. The garden could definitely do with some work; weeds were sprouting through and meandering their way over the payment, but it was only March and she had no intention of freezing for something which could easily wait until the temperature became a whole lot more tolerable.

The little boy didn’t seem to notice any of this instead choosing to stare at his feet, shivering as the wind began to pick up. Amanda quickly ushered him into the warmth of the house. “I’m home!” she called as she shrugged off her coat and hung it up before doing the same to the boy’s. 

“Mum?” a voice called from upstairs followed by two sets of hurried footsteps. 

“In the kitchen boys!” she called as she led the little blonde boy into the kitchen and sat him on one of the kitchen chairs. “Okay now you are going to meet someone very important okay?” she said softly tilting the little boys face up and giving him a grin.

“Is this him?” a voice asked behind her. She turned to see two little boys standing staring at the other sat in the chair with interest. Both boys looked like they had been dragged through a hedge backwards. The one which had spoken had a variety of twigs and leaves in his mess of dark curls, green eyes twinkling beneath the nest in formation. The other looked slightly neater, his mousy hair had been combed back but still had a few leaves visible and there were various smatterings of mud on the boy’s face and glasses which framed his equally muddy brown eyes, matching his mothers.

“What has your father been letting you get up to?” she chastised as she tried to rubs some of the mud from her sons face, who squirmed from her touch. 

“It wasn’t his fault Mrs ‘Ferre, he didn’t know we were there,” the other boy chirped before slapping his small hand over his mouth as he realized what he’d said. 

“Ah is that right? Jack?” she asked her son who was staring at his friend apparently shocked “Jack, is Courf telling the truth?”

“Well, we would have asked but Dad was really busy and it was only the field behind the garden. Nothing happened I promise,” he explained scuffing his feet on the ground.

“Okay, well next time you ask. Or no friends over for a week!” she scolded gently ruffling the boys hair as she did “Including Courf! Anyway, more importantly I would like you to meet my friend here,” she gestured to the boy on the chair who had shuffled as far back as the chair would allow. 

Courf was the first to approach smiling at little blond boy “Hi! I’m Courf and we’re gonna be super good friends and you can help me and ‘Ferre build things and play with things and lots of cool things!” he rambled reaching for the boys hand, frowning when he realized it had been tucked away and the boy was practically scowling at him. 

“Courf you’re scaring him!” Ferre hissed at his friend before going to the boy himself. His blue eyes were blazing beneath his halo of curls as he looked at bespectacled boy approaching him. The boy didn’t grab at him like the first one had and instead of the excitable chatter he spoke softly “Hi, do you want to see my moths? They don’t like people being loud either so I think you could be friends with them too.”

The little blonde boy hesitantly climbed off the chair looking at the lady before following the two boys out of the room and upstairs. 

The boys led him into a bedroom. It was like nothing the boy had seen before; it had books on every surface and most of the walls, and where there weren’t books there were pictures, or boxes holding things – living things. Combeferre smiled as the blonde boy gawped at his room, his blue eyes wide as they took everything in. 

Courf was the first to break the silence “Come see this! It’s awesome!” he declared as he dragged the boy further into the room.

 

Downstairs Amanda listened to the patter of feet above her, smiling as she heard her sons and Courfs excited voices babbling in the distance. She watched as the sky finally broke and rain began to spit against the window. 

She sighed happily as her husband wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a kiss behind her ear. “Long day?” he asked as she turned in his arms. He was over a foot taller than her with a broad chest and mousy hair which had been mangled so many times with his fingers that it now resembled a bird nest of sorts.

“Hmmm,” she hummed as she placed a chaste kiss on his lips “Long week. Have you met our young guest yet?”

“Yes, he is getting a full education on all things moth from the boys at the moment. Seems like a good kid though, shy as anything and,”

“Nervous as a kitten, I know” Amanda finished for her husband pushing him away lightly as she went to fill the kettle “The poor boy hasn’t said a word since we found him, doesn’t even have a name yet.”

“Ah, I may be able to help with that. Fantine came and dropped this box over this morning; apparently they found most of it at the house they found him, she also said there’s a file in here for a possible foster family too,” he muttered as he began rifling through the box and pulled out a manila folder, a crumpled page and what appeared to be a toy lion “And voila!” he grinned as he placed the folder on the desk and handed the paper to Amanda, keeping the lion and moving its head so it too was watching as she read through the sheet.

“Gosh, this is barely legible,” she said as she squinted at the paper “I think it’s a birth certificate but, your guess is as good as mine on what it says.” She handed him back the paper sending a weary smile at the lion as she did so.

He inspected the paper carefully, holding it up to the light trying to distinguish the blurred words. “Okay, I’m not sure but I think one of these says Julia or Julien, could be the mother, hell could be his name but like I said, I’m not sure.”

“Julien,” she tested the name, thinking of the small boy with bewildered eyes and a down turned mouth. It wasn’t perfect but it was right. “He’s Julien.” She smiled and rewarded her husband with a kiss.


	3. A Family

Edward Courfeyrac watched the blonde boy with an intense interest. He didn’t like to boast, but he had a _lot_ of friends, and none of them were quite like this boy. This boy who was sat cross-legged holding one of Ferre’s various dinosaur toys eyeing it with an extremely confused pout.

“You have to make it real,” Courf explained making his own T-Rex stomp across the floor, making the appropriate roaring noises as he did so.

Julien frowned slightly but began to make his own toy move along the carpet. “You’re not making the noises!” Courf protested. The boy immediately stopped moving the toy, dropping it as though burnt at Courf’s comment.

“It’s fine,” Combeferre said softly handing the dinosaur back to the boy “Not every dinosaur has to make noises,” he explained as he began making his own pterodactyl soar above the heads of the others boys dinosaurs.

It was tentative to begin, but they soon fell in sync, with the three boys playing in unison laughing as the game progressed allowing them to roam the Jurassic whilst sat in Combeferres bedroom. Julien remained silent, only offering a shy smile when either boy directed him a question.

This was how Alexander Combeferre found them almost an hour later; with Courf on his stomach helping Julien’s dinosaur scale the mountain of books in the center of the room whilst Ferre’s pterodactyl flew above, occasionally dive bombing Courf.

“It’s time for dinner boys,” he announced, holding the door open as Ferre and Courf dutifully walked out. Julien remained on the carpet, carefully looking anywhere but at his newly appointed friend’s father. “That means you too buddy,” he said softly kneeling in front of the tiny boy, who was staring at his hands with such focus they may burst into flames.

“You want to come downstairs and have some dinner?” he asked offering one of his hands to Julien. The boy eyed it warily but before he could make a decision Courf burst back in the room.

“We’re having turkey dinosaurs!! You cannot miss this!!” he declared pulling Julien to his feet before running from the room once more.

Alexander followed the two boys at a slower pace, laughing as Courf expressed the ‘awesomeness’ of turkey dinosaurs. When they reached the kitchen Amanda was already laying out plates laden with potatoes, green beans and the aforementioned turkey dinosaurs.

 

 

Ferre studied the blonde boy as he began to dig into his own turkey dinosaurs, surprised to see the small boy had yet to touch the plate in front of him. Instead he was just looking at it, but he really wanted it, even he could see that in his eight years of age. His mum was watching as well a frown pulling at her lips “You should eat them before they get cold honey,” she prompted softly and Julien nodded cautiously in response reaching for the closest dinosaur.

“Oh no honey,” Amanda laughed putting her own cutlery down “You have to use your knife and fork, like Jack and Courf are okay?”

The boy stared at her and then picked up the spoon which had been put beside his glass at the top of his plate. “No,” she said softly taking the spoon and putting it back at the top of the plate. She then took the knife and fork and held then for the little boy to take.

His actions were clumsy and he dropped them more than once but slowly the little blonde boy steadily cleared his plate, copying Combeferre and Courf in placing the cutlery atop the plate once he had finished.

“Was that nice honey?” Amanda asked as she went to take the empty plate away. Then the little boy said the first word Amanda had heard him utter.

The boy looked across to Courf and said, in a soft and cautious voice “Rawr,” before looking back to his lap a smile tugging at his lips. A smile shared by rest of the table.

 

 

“Did you read this file?” Amanda asked from where she was sat at the kitchen table.

Alexander dried off his hands, abandoning the washing up to take a glance at the file in question. “Can’t say I did, anything interesting?”

“It’s the Enjolras’s.”

“You’re kidding me?” he laughed “What the hell would people like that be fostering a kid for?”

Amanda scowled at her husband “Anyone can foster a child Alex, and they are more than suitable, unexpected admittedly, but suitable.”

Alexander pulled a chair up beside his wife “I’m not saying they’re not suitable honey, I’m just surprised.”

Amanda hummed in agreement looking back down at the file. She was surprised too. Almost everyone had at least heard of Mr & Mrs Enjolras in their town, hell probably further considering their reputation. Robert Enjolras was the Head Teacher of the local Grammar-School a title with which came notable acclaim and considerable respect. Marie Enjolras on the other hand was head of the library committee, head of the Musuem fund-raising board and hand her fingers in about every pie she could manage; and she accomplished it all whilst looking like she had just stepped out of the salon.

“So you going to give them a chance?” he asked resting his hand across hers.

Amanda looked at the form again “I think I may be an idiot if I don’t.”

 

 

The little blonde boy watched with wide eyes as the lady left the room turning the light off as she did.

He ran his hands over the duvet trying to focus on the soft sheets rather than the darkness surrounding him. His heart was hammering and his ears were pounding.

He did _not_ like the dark.

The dark was bad.

 

 

Courfeyrac couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the first time he had slept at Combeferre’s house. In fact he probably spent more time here then at his own home. But something was nagging at him.

“Hey, Ferre?” he said softly not really wanting to wake his friend if he were already asleep.

“Yeah,” Ferre’s voice came from the top bunk “You okay?”

Sighing Courf rolled onto his side “I don’t know,” he whined “my brain won’t shut up.”

There was a shuffling on the top bunk and soon Combeferre was sat cross legged at the end of Courf’s bunk “Wanna play dinosaurs?”

“No,” Courf said his face in the pillow.

“Spaceships?”

“No.”

“Dragons?”

Courf pulled himself up his curls falling over his eyes “I don’t want to play,” he huffed pouting.

Combeferre stared at his friend “Then what?”

 

 

Julien screamed.

His door was opening and there were voices and there was no where he could hide. Then suddenly there was a hand over his mouth and the door was closing. He pulled the hand from his face and scrambled off of the bed running to the door.

“Hey!” a small voice hissed from “It’s us!”

Julien turned as the bedside light was flicked on illuminating the two boys beside his bed. “Hi,” Courfeyrac waved.

 

 

Amanda groaned as her alarm blared beside her. Without lifting her head from the pillow she batted at the clock with her hand, whining when she couldn’t find it.

“Wrong side honey,” her husband laughed sleepily from beside her as he turned the alarm off.

Giving a happy hum she rolled over so she could wrap her arm around her husband “This is why I love you.”

Alex smiled down at his wide, running his fingers through her hair “We need to get up.”

Unwinding herself from her husband Amanda sat up and glared at him “I want a divorce,” she grumbled ignoring his laughter as she shuffled to the bathroom.

 

 

Once she had showered and felt suitably more alive Amanda looked into the guestroom to check on their little blonde visitor. When she opened the door though he was not alone; instead he was curled in the center of the bed with Courf and Combeferre on each side all fast asleep.

“Ah that’s where they went,” Alex said softly behind her, wrapping an arm round her waist.

“Yeah,” she breathed out relaxing into her husband’s embrace “I get the feeling we’re not going to be saying goodbye to this one.”


End file.
